Stillness of the Triad
233 Words
They gathered in the Temple of Threads—a place not rooted in any one realm, but woven between them. Theadomma arrived on wings of radiant dusk. Nyxsis stepped from flame turned to ember. Pallamay dissolved from mist into form, her eyes already distant, scanning time’s fragile cloth.
The void Ravannah birthed was no longer hidden. It sang through cracks in memory and bent prayers into silence.
Yet no judgment passed between them.
Only watching.
“We cannot mend what is still shaping,” Pallamay said, her voice layered with time itself. “Only observe. Only wait.”
And so they did. From the Temple’s woven veils, they watched Ravannah shape hollows into whispers, echo into longing.
Nyxsis, ever fiery, clenched her fists.
“If he forgets who he is—Ge will forget who it was meant to be.”
Theadomma replied,
“Let the winds carry his ache. We may still find the thread that leads him home.”
Pallamay stood beneath the Loom of Infinite, her hands sifting timelines like grains of ancient sand. Possibilities bloomed and collapsed around her—somewhere Ravannah ascended anew; others where only silence remained. Her search narrowed with each breath.
Until one thread shimmered differently.
It was incomplete. Wild. Risked everything.
But it pulsed.
“There is one,” she whispered.
And so the sisters watched.
Not as gods.
But as guardians of hope.
- Writer
